Laura Moro, this week’s captioned babe, tries to take the perfect Facebook profile photo when an unlucky mirror leads her on an adventure west through magnetic rooms, farms and an impassable liquid barrier.

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month and in honor of that the National Football League recently smattered pink on their ballplayers and cheerleaders. A lot of people noticed this and I thought it was a great idea, not just because it brought attention to a noble cause but because it gave me a great sports related excuse to write about boobs… and, of course, to bring even more attention to that noble cause.

10 years after the advent of the All Star game deciding home field advantage, it might be time to spice up the game up just a little bit more and even give the rest of All Star Weekend a chance to ‘really matter.’

Laura Moro, this week’s captioned babe, tries to take the perfect Facebook profile photo when an unlucky mirror leads her on an adventure west through magnetic rooms, farms and an impassable liquid barrier.

The troops are not victims. The troops are not simpletons you slick modern smarties rolled over. The troops are not disenfranchised teenagers that traded their one asset- life- for a shot at college money.

Once in a while, a film comes along that makes me happy and yet is so bad, so misguided, so entirely beyond defense, that even I’m forced to squirrel it away at the bottom of my DVD shelf and hope nobody notices.

In the end, the only thing this dude seems good at is riding in a car, then convincing the driver to stop because he’s “gonna be sick,” only to lure them away from the car long enough to steal it and leave them on the side of the road. That’s gotta be the lamest super-power ever, and he uses it… twice!

I watched Savage Island with a bizarre mix of childish wonder and anatomical curiosity. I felt like I was fourteen, finger poised on the POWER button, just in case my mom were to burst into the room. This movie was like a time capsule of natural cleavage and ungroomed pubic hair.

I love you, “Repo! The Genetic Opera.” I love you like a high-school cheerleader loves her abusive, immature, angst-ridden boyfriend. You ignore me, disrepect me, make promises that your plot never fulfills, but I there’s something in the way you wear your eye-liner, that keeps me coming back.

In Part I (available for viewing) I offered to dispose of the Humane Society’s unwanted animals by feeding them to my snake. In Part II (also available for viewing) I posted their response and addressed their reservations. Now in Part III we explore their tolerance for looniness…

My point here is, you have given the world only two options, possibly painful death, or worse, a society plagued with frosted mini peckers and unsatisfied women. What we need is not arguments, but solutions!”

So in Part I (available for viewing), I offered to help the Humane Society dispose of unadopted animals by feeding them to my python. Here in Part II, I post their response and address their reservations: